Revelations of A Teenage Villain
by pbbching
Summary: Ivy McAllister has it all. A four-story house out on Bel Air in Beverly Hills, A socialista mother, and a good set of fortune. But there's just one problem: She is mean. She is the typical mean girl in every highschool: Tricky and Wise.


Revelations of a Teenage Villain || C.Y. **44**

Revelations of a

Teenage Villain

C.Y.

**Caution:**

You may encounter wrong spellings or grammar.

Sorry, I'm just a dumb mean girl.

What's important is I could share the juiciest happenings in my life with you.

Prologue:

**POISON IVY**

Autograph

What the hell are you looking at? This is my diary! Close this or else... Sneaky bitch.

Okay. I see this diary offers me to write my full autograph. What's this? This is trailer trash. Anyway... Let's fill this up.

**Name:** Ivy Diana McAllister

**Nickname:** Diana, Ivy, McAllister... Hotty... Uhhh... does 'Fat-Ass' counts?

**Age:** 16

**Birthday:** November 5, 1993

**Horoscope Sign:** What is this? Uhh... Friday the 13th? That is my favorite horror movie!

**Hobby:** Watching the TiVo... Uhmm... texting... And why do you care?

**Favorites:**

**Color:** Pink and Orange.

**Movie:** Legally Blonde and Mean Girls

**Television Show:** Gossip Girl... Uhh... Uh...

**Music:** Pop songs...

**Sport:** Volleyball! I'm part of the varsity team!

**Food:** Ice cream? Is that even food? It's a desert dumbo!

**Holiday:** Thanksgiving... Because I got to make the Pumpkin Pie!

**Actor:** Hugh Dancy. Such a hottie! And who else? Chace Crawford?

**Actress:** Jessica Simpson, Reese Witherspoon and the one with feathers in the Oscars. I don't know her but I love her dress!

**Season:** Summer. Because I could ramp my bikinis which costs more than a grand!

**Quote:** Time is Gold, but it's out. I've got silver watches right now, the one with rhine stones at the edges. Oh, I love those!

**First time you're in loved?** At my first prom night! There's this guy who wears a Versace perfume, and I love him for it. My eyes twinkled like Diamonds.

**Name your first love:** Uhh... It's a secret! Oh you really want me to write that one! No... I'm shy... Uhh... BRANDON!! Okay! BRANDON!!

**Where did you met?** At the girl's room! He was there peeking on other girls.

**One secret you did lately but you didn't tell anyone but me:** I put a frog on Dina's bag.

** Ivy  
**

**Signature**

Oh Crap...

* * *

Chapter 1:

The Teenage Villain

"Shut up! Shut up!" I told Ruth. My best friend-slash-assistant-slash-cargo manager.

"Why? I thought you like Beyonce's songs?" She insists. Changing the disc.

We're in the cafeteria with bunch of kids in the room. The room smells like mixed soy sauce, milk, tangerine and papaya. It's just mixed. "What are you having for lunch?" I asked Ruth, not looking at her.

There's a silence, so I ignored the question. "Ruth, let's go to the girl's room." I asked.

"Why? Again?" She curiously asked while checking herself at the mirror.

"I need to check myself first." I said, then a long breath.

"You look good. No, really, you look good." she confides me.

"Just go!" I shouted.

I am Ivy McAllister, your resident villain. Well, not now. I live in Bel Air in Beverly Hills. My father is the network manager of MGC, a broadcasting company in New York. My mom, a housewife and owns a boutique where she sells all her designs. We all live in a wonderful four story house with a built-in elevator. And I'm lucky enough that they allow me to throw party any night I want to. And yes, everyone attends. Who wouldn't attend to a Jamaican-themed party? Maybe some lost souls wouldn't. I study at St. John, a not so good school in somewhere out there. Honestly, it's the closest school in my house and that's why my parents want me to attend to that school. Oh, and just last week they gave me a limousine. A pink one! I can't use it at the moment; the last driver we hired resigned. And you guessed it right, because of me.

Let's not talk about love, shouldn't we? Me and my BF Brandon just broke up last week, well not really broke up. Due to his religious matters. Every week they had Seders, and I don't even know what a Seder was. Saturday is my only free day and he won't be there for me. He sucks. Just one look at his face, I can't help but become seasick and next thing you know, I vomited.

I think I have a strong fashion sense. I'll study fashion merchandising next year at Yale. Do they even offer fashion merchandising there? I hope so.

I have a closet full of branded things. Cashmere, wool, silk. I have them all. How about a pair of Prada? I have those, too. and not just a pair. I actually think, I worshipped Prada. From blue, red, gold and even the black ones! I have them all. But still, I can't find my happiness. Does a Versace perfume fulfill my happiness? I don't think so.

From the start, I know my happiness. I am happy hosting a Papaya-Milkshake-drinking-contest. Placing frogs and tons of crickets in my mate's locker or in my teacher's bag. Doing skit in the middle of the grounds about our principal and how he acts nervously and bumpily. It's just my happiness. My happiness to saddened others.

As we reached the girl's room, I looked at myself at the mirror. Lit a candle. By the way, it's scented. "Ruth, I am beautiful, right?" I asked her.

"Yes, you are? You have a long brown hair, and deep brown eyes. You have a strong fashion statement. Everything suits you, even a sweatshirt. And indeed, you are beautiful." She answered while feeling the heat of the candle.

I tapped her hands off the candle. "Then, slap me. If I'm just hallucinating."

"Why are you hallucinating?"

I squeezed her face. "Because this beautiful girl in front of me isn't just real!"

"So, I see." She said. Gesturing in a confused manner.

"If this beautiful girl in front of me is beautiful, she should be beautiful inside, too." I said then I frowned.

"I know right?" She smiled.

"I promised from now on, Poison Ivy is now a good person. A white witch. Can I be one?" I asked.

"Yes, you can. But, the white witch in Narnia is bad, too." She protested.

"Okay, whatever." I breathe deeply and look at the mirror. "Miss Ivy McAllister is now a good girl. You'll be out of this habit. You'll be a good person, kind and meek and timid." I pledged.

"Are you joking? Are you awake? You, a good person?" She laughed hard. "You can kill me, but you can't be a good person!"

"You want me to kill you?" I threatened her. I am very pleased of seeing my self in a Mango shirt and a Macy skirt. And of course, my Prada shoes. "Can't you see, I'm really, really changing. Accept me for what I am, right now."

"Okay, you are really serious, right?" She held my shoulders.

"Yes, I am. It's time to be serious. There's no other day than now." I said, Shakespearingly.

Awesome! Even I do not think this will last. I want to go home and just spill everything to my dad, my mom, and the maid. I should go for the maid, I think.

"Theodora!" I called the maid. She was a southern girl, not to mention, from South Carolina. She's not too old, not too young. My mom let her wore this heinous ruffled maid dress which my mom designed. And it suits her perfectly. Theodora's my best friend at home. Like my dog, even though I don't have one. She always walk me to the park on Saturdays especially when I'm, you know, confused, sad, lonely... And in surprise, I saw her drinking martini.

"Oh, Miss Ivy! How was your day today? Did you do good in school?" She said, still sipping.

"It was fine, 'twas a good day, nothing strange. But there's something I gotta tell you!" Theodora's face was very confused, but let's see her reaction when I tell her, I have changed!

"Why? What is it? Tell me!" She said, very excited.

"Snap it out! Don't get too excited, it isn't about Brandon."

"Really? So... what's it about?" She changed mood, from energetic to uninterested.

"You don't seem to be interested, maybe next time."

"No, no, no, Ivy, spill it to me. I'm your maid, I'll help you."

"Okay. I have changed." I said, breathing hard again.

"You have changed? What changed?" She looked at my whole body, searching for a change.

"Cut it out, Theodora!" And she stopped searching my body. "There's nothing that change in my physical body. Nothing's physical!"

"Then, if you didn't buy any Prada shoes, or a Gucci bag. Or maybe, you bought another Versace perfume! Miss Ivy, I told you not to spend your money in those things. Your mother will just complain and be mean to you, which, you do not like, right?"

"Snap it out! It's nothing connected about Versace, Prada or Gucci! Well, I bought a D&G suitcase."

She looked at me for a long while. "I told you not to, right?"

"But it's for school!" I held her face. "But, it's not what changed. It's more..." I looked at my watch. It's Gossip Girl time! "spirituuaaaaaal. Bye Theodora! I'll just spoil you a bit. See you later!"

As I got out, I saw my mom. "Hello Mom! Gotta go!"

"How's school?" My mom said, but I didn't mind.

I ran throughout the hallway of paintings and sculpture. One thing I hate about this house – going to my room. I must run like a kilometer before getting into my room.

The next morning was a lovely day. The school was cheery and calm at the same time. It's a bit cloudy. I suddenly realized that there's not much days left before sem-break.

As I looked up in the sky, smelling the fresh breeze from the near shore... I am distracted.

"Ivy!" called Ruth.

"What's the fuss?"

"Brandon's in the library, waiting for you!" She yelled.

"Can you keep quiet?" I grabbed her from the back. "Why in the library?"

"Maybe he needs some quiet conversations." She whispered and giggled loudly.

"Oh, really?" I raised a brow. "No, I won't go there."

"Don't deny that you love still love him!" She said.

I didn't realize we were at the back of the school bus all the time, talking. "Why? Didn't you deny anything at all?"

"I knew it! Hey, I didn't deny that I'm a black woman, though I'm white in my birth certificate."

"Well, that's just another story. Not related, okay? So, how 'bout..." I thought of something to say. Or whatever, an alibi maybe.

"Don't think, just do it!" She said, louder.

"What will he say to me? That, he loves me again, and then the next thing I know, there's already someone waiting for him." I stood straight, brushing off dust from my cashmere sweatshirt. "It's just the same even if I keep going and going and going and goi.."

"That's an energizer motto, my dear. Channel that fear! Nothing will really happen if you don't do anything." She said, in a rapping manner.

"What? I do not understand a thing."

"Just do it! Go now! It's your time!" She shouted.

"Okay. Whatever you say.."

"Yahoo! Now, you go and you fight for it! This can be a part of your transformation. Remember, Poison Ivy is dead. You are now, The Ivy that everyone wants. Ivy the good. Ha-ha-ha!" She laughed hard.

"What the hell are you laughing about? Is there something funny?" The sky becomes sunnier. It's a sign.

"I still can't get over of you being good! Ha-ha-ha! It always tickle me to the bones!" I didn't mind her. I just looked at the sun. "Hey, Ivy, still there? Your line is choppy. Ha-ha-ha!"

"Do you still have Brandon's number?" I asked her. I deleted his number sometime last week.

"Here. Here it is." She showed me her phone and I recorded it. "Now, what?"

"I'll call him." I dialed the number.

"What the ? Call him? Just go and talk to him!"

"No, not now. Not this time." I said. Still waiting for an answer from Brandon. "Why isn't he answering the freaking phone?"

And finally an answer. And it's Brandon. "Hello this is Brandon, you know what to do. Just leave a message and wait for my reply."

"Whaaaaaaaaaat? It's an answering machine! Is he freaking kidding me?" I suddenly realize I shouldn't do this anymore. I'm not in the mood.

"Just leave a message!" Ruth insisted.

"Okay! Okay! Just shut up. I'm waiting for the beat. It's a long waiting message." Then a beat. "Hey, Brandon, its me, Ivy. Just wait for me there. If you love me, then cut class. Okay? Bye, cuppycake.

"That's the spirit! Ivy, you just did it! But... why did you maid him wait? Why not now?"

"Follow me."

Alright, I'll admit it. I still like him. Well, if he cuts class, that means I know what I'll expect. If I see him standing there, in that very room, hoop shot!

I dragged Ruth in the mall. I love him too, so I think, I'll cut class for him. Cut class, and cut class – the work of a villain. I agree with my inner instincts – there's still a villainous part of me. Whatever way, I need to get dress for this moment. I can't just go in there in this cashmere sweatshirt! Or just my old clothes. I need new ones. Real fabulous and glamorous ones. Either way, I need new accessories and new set of make up. Okay, I've got an hour.

I ran through the mall. Seeing many dress shops, but I ignored them - I've been there before. Maybe I bought all the dresses from Zara or Mango. I should go to Barney's. It's a bit solemn in there or... not.

I saw the huge Barney's sign. I went in, feeling delighted. I can't choose from the variety of clothes. I'm just finding it hard when I see so much of them. It's like I want them all. I want to put them all on.

I walked to see everything. It's incomparable. I need a good dress for a come back. Back to the arms of my... never mind. I looked at every mannequin. They all seem to be talking to me. Attracting me to try on this and that. All those glamorous shirts, dress, scarf, shoes and accessories.

I need something appropriate for a peace offering event. This is my last chance to hit on him.

"Ruth, tell me, what exactly do I need?" I asked her.

"You need a dress."

"I know, right? But what kind of dress? Oh never mind. I think I should go for the conservative type of me. Someone serious and respected. Apparently, that's what he wants."

"Really? But a conservative type is for politics. Wake up, Ivy! It's 2009!"

"I know right, I have a pocket calendar in my wallet! What I want to know is, what do I really need?" I explained. I peaked through sections. From teeny to classy. I sought help from saleslady from saleslady. But no one could help me.

We went to the formal dresses sections where gowns, tux and other formal things were.

I saw a red dress that is until my foot. It's beaded in sequins. "Ruth, how about this? Isn't this nice?"

"Are you kidding me? It looks like you're the one after him. And not him!"

"Why? Aren't I the one?" I looked at the mirror with the red dress. And I think, it's inappropriate. "You're right. This isn't the one."

Then suddenly Ruth whispered. "Ivy, look at that salesgirl. That's the one we saw last time. The one who gave.."

"Ponchos to a girl to wear for a wedding? Ha-ha-ha! That poor girl, being tricked by a salesgirl. Didn't she know Ponchos are.." Then I looked at the salesgirl. I can see her coming to us. "Look, she's coming!"

"Ha-ha!" Laughed Ruth. "And look at her new hair. A mousy brown bob and pair it with Barney's uniform? What a waste! She looks like a real life Minnie Mouse!"

"You are right! Okay, here she is..." I whispered.

The salesgirl was holding a pair of dresses. One is orange, one is pink. Apparently, that's my favorite colors.

"Hi ma'am. Any events coming?" She asked.

"Yes... uh.. uh.." I can't tell her straightly what will happen.

Then Ruth answered for me. "Yes, an engagement event."

"Wow!" alleged the salesgirl. "Why don't you try this. Look, it's pink and orange."

"Wow! My favorite colors." I can't be fooled.

"I know, right!" supposed the saleslady. "This pink one is latest from Paris. And this orange is a replica of one of the designs from the New York fashion week."

"Yeah... right..." I said while feeling the fabric. And then, I had an idea.

The salesgirl took the dress away from me. "Why don't you try it? Plus, it's just 60 dollars."

"Hmm... The truth is, that pink dress didn't came from Paris at all. I didn't see a design like that anywhere in Paris fashion week. And don't fool me, because I also saw that in last two year's Cosmo." I explained.

"Ahh..." she can't answer.

"I'm not buying that dress in half prize." I added.

"How... about... the orange one?" She pleaded.

"Ha-ha-ha! Are you kidding me? I'm not buying a dress similar to that of our first lady Jaqueline Kennedy wore. And that's a cheap trash replica." I explained again. She looked worried. I looked at Ruth, and she smiled.

"Wow! I didn't know what to say... "the salesgirl said, and ran away.

Ruth looked at me. "Wow, you are good Ivy! Hoop shot, girl!"

"Now, we must not worry about her. What we need to worry about is my dress!"

We saw a white dress with black thin stripes covering it vertically. And, it's accented with a belt. "This is the one." I told Ruth.

"Yes, that is it! What you only need is a new shoes!" suggested Ruth.

"Yes, a new Prada shoes." I said, dreamily.

"Prada, again?"

I paid for the dress and wore it immediately. We walked to the shoes department.

"Ruth! Look at that black Prada. That is the one." I told Ruth.

As we walked to the shoe.

"Wow! This shoe is perfect for me!" Wait, I'm not the one who said that. Another lady! In the same dress!

"Whoa Whoa Whoa! Wait! I saw this first!" And then I ran to the pair of shoes.

"Hey, you have the same dress as mine!" said the lady.

"I know, right." I said, while holding one of the shoes. "And this is perfect for my dress."

"No, it is perfect for my dress!" shouted the lady.

"But, you have the same dress!" explained Ruth.

She pulled her hair. It was real painful so I pulled her hair, too. "Let go of my hair!" said the lady.

"You let go of my hair first!" But no one did. We yelled and screamed. I saw all of the people were looking at us.

"Maybe there's another pair, Ivy! Just give it to her." Ruth confronted.

"No there isn't." said the salesgirl from awhile ago.

"Just shut up!" I heard Ruth said to the salesgirl.

I kicked the lady's knees and let go of her hair. As she let go of mine, I slapped her in the face. "Now, that's what you want?!" Then I grabbed the shoes. "There aren't anyone greater than me, poison Ivy!"

"Hey, that's mine!" said the lady.

"You want this?" I asked sarcastically. "No freaking way! Get your own shoes! You ruined my hair, my new dress, but you can't ruin a pair of Prada!" I shouted,

At last, I got over it. I paid for the shoes, as usual. But, I look trashy.

"Ruth, I look dirty and trashy, aren't I?"

"Yes, Ivy, you look damn messed up." said Ruth, while fixing my hair.

"Do I need a salon?" I asked.

"But, you have twenty minutes left." said Ruth, hopeless.

"No, twenty minutes is just the right time to get prepared."

I looked up above and saw a sign. 'Dewey's Hair Salon' it says. I don't know what's in store for me here, but I need my hair fixed.

"Fix my hair." I said to the guy... maybe he's Dewey.

"Okay. What do you like?" said Dewey.

"Dewey, give me a nice curls." I explained.

"Okay, first of all I'm not Dewey. The name's Rico." he corrected me.

Oooh... that is why he looked a bit mexican-ish. "Whatever! Just give me curls!"

"What? A perm?"

"No! Just Give me curls! In fifteen minutes only, okay?" I told him.

"Fifteen minutes? Are you kidding..." He complained.

"I'll give you a hundred bucks. Just for the curls, okay. So shut up and just do it!"

Fifteen minutes had passed and I'm ready. "Okay, this is it. " I said to myself. Yes, this is really it. The moment I'll get my love back.

I walked to the hallway to the library confident. If he's there he still loves me. But if he isn't, then...

"Hello, Miss librarian, Is Brandon Stine here? He's waiting for me." I asked the librarian.

"Miss McAllister, this is a library, not a..."

What does she mean? Maybe I'm too noisy. "Is Brandon Stine in here?" I lowered my voice.

"What? Are you dumb?" Oh My!

Then I heard another voice. "Miss Ivy McAllister? Brandon Stine has left a note for you."

"Whoa, thanks." I said.

"Nice dress, Miss McAllister. Then he laughed hard. And, I don't know why.

"What?" I asked, annoyed. I read the note. 'Meet you at the Lagoon.' he wrote. 'Brandon.'.

At the lagoon? Wow, he chose another romantic place. He's so thoughtful!

I think I just saw Brandon sitting at a bench near the lagoon. And he's dressed nicely, too. Well, he dresses nice everyday. But, his shirt is absolutely nothing compared to the shirts he wore everyday. This must be a special day for him too. Even miles away, I can smell his Versace perfume. The one he wore when we first met. Wow, he's really thoughtful.

Me and Brandon met at my first prom night. That night was a little foggy. I believe in signs, so maybe a fog is one. My date wasn't Brandon. He was some dork from Chemistry class. I only accepted his invitation to be his prom date because I need to get some revenge to our teacher. And that's what exactly he did. But still, he's a dork. While dancing, I can smell the exact same Versace perfume Brandon wore today. And I know that was Versace from the moment I smelled him. The dork and I was dancing to the tune of... Careless Whisper? Urgghh... But then I saw Brandon and I bumped him accidentally, well, actually intentionally. And yes, that was the first time I saw him.

As I reminisce, I looked at Brandon straight in the eye. It's like slow motion. I looked at everyone looking at me. I gave them a straight face but I'm smiling with my eyes. This is exactly what a mean girl should be. Popular, gracious, glamorous and looked up to.

I walked like a goddess in the stairs when I felt there's something stuck in my shoes. Are you effin' kiddin' me? There's a rock stacked in my heels! Oh my gosh! How could I get rid of this? Embarrassed, I just walked gracefully and statuesquely. Then I suddenly remembered, this is a Prada! I have no choice but I got to get rid of this stone. I raised my feet, because it left me no alternatives. I can't get it out of my heels! I saw a bench and I just sat there. I pulled the stone out but it really doesn't. It's just there. Okay, don't panic. I kept talking to myself when I saw Brandon walking towards me.

Okay, I got it! It's out of my heels! When...

"Ivy? What's up with you there?" Brandon said.

"Nothing. Just..." I dusted my dress off.

"Well, It looked like I waited for you an hour here." he complained.

"Really? I'm so sorry." I pleaded.

"No, cuppycake. That's fine." He's so thoughtful. How many times did I say thoughtful?

"You are so thoughtful!" Okay, that's the one-hundredth time.

He sat beside me. "What I want to talk about cuppycake is our relationship."

"Yes, cuppycake, I know you would like that." I said.

"And this relationship lasted for a long time already." He continued.

"Yes, cuppycake, yes."

"And, you might want to know, you're the woman everyone dreams of." he complimented.

"Really? Wow... I did not know that." I answered.

"Just give me a minute to talk cuppycake, can you?"

"Yes." My eyes glinted on his. It was a really dreamy moment.

"Cuppycake, You are beautiful, you are glamorous, in a way, you are _kind_. And last week, I regretted everything I've done to you. It's just wrong. To break up with you in a place where many people would know. And nowadays, you seemed to be unpopular anymore." He stated.

I was shocked with his last words. But he's right. Nowadays I'm not popular anymore, and that's part of the transformation.

"By the way, cuppycake, I had my big break. I'm going to be a writer! I'll be editor of the school's paper." he announced.

"Wow, Brandon, that's good." I cheered.

"I know, and as editor-in-chief, I need to have a good reputation. I don't want people to say, I'm writing good things, advising good matters, but I myself isn't. And I need space, cuppycake." He said.

"Wow! Brandon, you really thought about this."

"Yes, cuppycake, that's why we should... you know... break up." He cleared.

At that moment, I was just stunned. Like, I don't know what to say. "What?! What the hell are you telling me? You, me, break up? Are you freaking serious?" I shouted.

"Shh..shh... cuppycake. Being a school writer isn't an easy job. After being a writer, who knows, I might be the school president." said Brandon.

"What? But why do we need to break up?" I asked, while crying.

"Cuppycake, If I should set as a good role model, I shouldn't hook up with some mean girls." He said.

"But, but, but Brandon! You always have delusions of grandeur!" I revenged.

"Delusions? This isn't a delusion, Ivy. This will eventually come true."

"But I thought you cut class. and that's because you still love me!" I confronted.

"Cut class? And when did you said that?"

"Awhile ago, Brandon! I left a message in your phone!" I explained.

"But, I left my phone at home, and cuppycake, ironically, I don't have any class at the moment."

I cried like a dork. Like the one I dated last prom. "Brandon! Didn't you know what I sacrificed for this? I scolded a salesgirl at Barney's for giving me the wrong dress. I fought for this shoes. And this hair was messed up so I had it fixed!"

"But, Ivy? It's just all for your vanity. You're jealous that I might like someone else and not you. And... that's the only reason that you got dressed and not because of me."

"Just shut up." I shouted as I cried.

"Cuppycake, you should know..."

"Don't you ever call me cuppycake ever again!" I said.

"I'm so sorry...but..." he pleaded.

I don't know what to say, I'm humiliated. "Just shut up! I told you! Shut up!"

I walked out, my eye shadow fading because of tears. What have I done?

* * *

Chapter 2:

Back To Business

It's noon and I don't even want to go to class. I just want to go home.

What the heck is happening with that guy? I want to get his guts out of his body! What a waste of time. I am so humiliated and mortified! Don't dare he talk to me again. But still I had a thought in my head, 'Yeah, I still love him'. I know I'm dumb for doing this, but it's just what I feel. Now, it's a head to head fight. But whatever happens he'll still fall into my hands. I'll chain him with my fingers. Ha-ha-ha! He thinks it's an easy step. huh? Is it only that easy? No. Is that it ? Yes, for him. But not for me.

For now, I have no plan. I'm too out-of-mind to decide. I need a break. Time for these tears to dry and revenge.

"Miss Ivy, why are you crying?" It's Theodora. Asking me with her distinctive southern accent.

"Nothing." I said while sobbing.

"Nothing? This is not nothing Miss Ivy. C'mon tell me. It's fine."

"It's Brandon" I revealed.

"Brandon? Oh, he dumped you didn't he?" How did she know all about this?

"Yes, he did." I answered.

"I knew it, Miss Ivy."

"How did you know?" I'm surprised.

"Ruth told me."

What? Am I missing something? "And how did Ruth knew?"

"I don't know, Miss Ivy. What's important now is, to retouch your make up. Look at you, you look like a normal person." She comforted.

"I know, right. I looked too normal. I must be way normal."

"Abnormal, Miss Ivy?"

"Of course not! I must be beyond normal, profligate, exuberant and mean!" I advised myself.

I was crying the whole time I was in bed. And no other one comforted me like Theodora. Suddenly, I got an idea. I remembered the clothes I bought when I suddenly realized I want to be Ivy the good. Sweatshirts, sweatpants, over-alls, heinous bubble dresses and plain shirts. And this came to my mind: "What the heck am I going to do with this?". Oh, maybe I should just throw them away, or burn them at least. So nobody can be reached by these disastrous clothes.

I burned my clothes, books, geeky magazines and my two hundred dollar Gucci eye glasses. I don't need them anymore. I don't freaking need them!

I looked at the smoke while it's disappearing in the air. Oh wait, I forgot something. Something worth burned.

I went back to the fire with graduation photos, letters and everything about Brandon. Let me start a new beginning. Again.

Now, it's done, everything's about me now. It's Me, I, Ivy. No one in this world will exist but me. I am back to business.

I called Ruth the next day. "Where are you? I kept waiting for you here!"

"Where?"

"In my house!" I answered.

It took a long time for her to answer. "Ok..aaa..yy.. What's the fuss?"

"Just get in here!"

I felt like what I felt before. I have this feeling that the world was mine. Like it was revolving around me. Maybe it is really mine. I am now living in my comfort zone. In tight shirt, short skirt and high heels. It's me, it's just me.

I walked in the crowd, pushing people out of my way. I walked with words in my eyes, 'Come on, look at me. I'm Ivy.'. I walked graciously and gorgeously. Flaunting my curves and flowing hair. Just how a mean girl should do it.

"Get out of the way!" I said, as a stunned kid looked at me.

I know, right? "I'm back!" I announced.

Ruth handed me my coat, I wore it and ramped. I love the effin' feeling! Everybody's just staring at me.

"Feeling fine, you guys!" I shouted. "I will treat you all to an all-Yankee lunch today!"

The crowd cheered and shouted for me. What a great feeling.

'Looks like everything's fine again.' I said to myself for the tenth time. I ended up staring at the ceiling while tapping my pen. I don't have anything to write for my essay. I'm still thinking about what happened with Brandon. Our professor looked like a clown rolling through the snow. He's wearing a baseball cap, Green Jacket, oversized shoes and a winter scarf. I looked at myself and compared what I looked like. I'm fine with myself; wearing everything minis, it's just me. Not because it shows alot of my skin, or I sexually seduce other people, just because it's comfortable.

"Haven't got anything to write miss McAllister?" the professor asked.

"None, sir."

He cackled.

I stood up and let everyone's attention rose to me. "Just think for a second. I am not a dumb mean girl as you think I am. Consider yourself warned Mister. Sometimes, you're wearing a nice three-piece suit, but there comes a day, you'll wear them in your coffin."

Even if I don't mean those, it's just my way of protecting myself. Hey, what would you say to a man insulting you publicly? Just sit there doing nothing? It's not me. Not Ivy.

He sent me out.

I stayed at the mall as long as I wanted to. There's nowhere to go but the mall. It's just like there's three places to go: My house, school and at the mall. I wanted to go at Barney's; buy new clothes, hats or maybe a new pair of Prada.

I felt the strong scent of the department store. The smell gives a distinct difference from Macy's and Barney's. Barney's has this smell, very Versace. It's like food, that you smell even far away. The smell of leather shoes, RTWs and believe it or not, the reek of a new car.

I don't want to see the old salesgirl who ran into us last week... or not. She's coming towards me. I really attracts these troublous salesgirls; thought I'm dumb. No way.

And just like the old times, the salesgirl was again, in tears. Ha-ha-ha!

"No way!" I told my mom. She was sending me out to the dentist for my monthly tooth cleaning. Oh, shit.

She tucked a strand of hair on her ears and grabbed her purse. "C'mon. Let's go, we need to get there before I go to the Casino. Your Aunt Becky will be waiting for me there, we'll play poker, right?"

"No freaking way! That dentist is the father of Brandon!"

"So what?" She retouched her lips with her Terra Cotta colored lipstick. With her new hairdo - big bobby curls and teased; She kept tucking it on her ears. "And besides, Brandon is your boyfriend isn't he?" Before I could answer, she continued. "And when you're all at the right age, you two, get married, huh?"

I blushed. I can't tell my mom that...that... See! I can't even tell it to myself. But my mom likes Brandon – He has a decent multi-million worth car, has a big house or mansion (perhaps) and his parents are successful in their careers. And that's what my mother wants for a spouse.

Wow. Spouse; a big word. Yes, for me, at my age, it's still a big, big word. I don't even know what a commitment is.

At the clinic, I found myself dizzy. Medicines, liquids and those unrecognizable things float through the air. The room – all white, with pink wallpaper. I glanced at the purple bench, looking if there's dirt.

"Theodora! Hand me the napkin." I wiped off the bench before I sat down.

I looked at everything in the room and saw a rack of magazine; bored, I browsed it.

_Time Magazine... Not interesting..._

_ Not Interesting..._

_ Not Interesting..._

_ Not interesting..._

_ July's Cosmo! _

_ Boring..._

As I'm about to open the glossy Cosmo magazine, Mr. Stine, Brandon's father, went out from a room.

"Miss... Ivy... McAllister?" He asked out.

"Mr. Stine!" I called out.

He stared at me in confusion. He doesn't seem to remember me. "Do I know you?"

I walked towards him and flaunted my trench coat. "It's Ivy, remember?"

"Ivy...?"

"Brandon's girlfriend!" I am shocked with what I said. What if this comes to Brandon, or... Brandon actually told him already or... whatever! If this is the only way for him to notice me, then take the risk!

"Oh, Ivy! Now I remember. Brandon never mentioned you lately, so I didn't quite remember you. So how's things going on with you and my son?" He asked. He took off his gloves and fixed his glasses on his nose.

I don't know what to say. My eyes rolled and I looked everywhere. The napkin in my hand could melt 'cause I was crumpling it too hard. What the heck in the world am I gonna tell him?

"Are you okay? You still want to go in?"

I gulped air inside my throat. I felt dry and I want to faint. But... why? My eyes crossed and I see brown, dark brown, black, white; And I fainted.

I woke up in a white bed. I don't know where I am. I looked everywhere when I saw 'Doctor Gabriel Stine'; I'm still at the clinic. It's corny, but I don't know why I'm here. I want to freak out!

And then, I heard the door squeaked. OMG. It's Brandon.

I stood up my bed immediately. "Oh, Brandon!"

"Ivy, my father called me and told me you're here."

"So what?" I pretended to be masochistic.

"So... I was worried and I'm thrilled to see you."

"Okay..."

I am waiting for a response when suddenly my mom went in.

In a new dress, she came in with grace and style. "Ivy." she said, in a motherly tone. "Brandon told me you were done with each other, aren't you?" Again, she didn't want a response. "Why didn't you told me this? Why?"

"But mom... not here..." I pleaded.

"C'mon, let's go." She grabbed me by the arm and Theodora came with us. "Thank you, Brandon, for the info."

On the way home, she drove the car and gave me a soggy face. "Mom, don't waste the botox..."

"I do not care for the botox! Why, why didn't you tell me, that you and Brandon... broke up?" And again, she didn't want a response. "Look what you've done, I lost a hundred thousand bucks to your Aunt Becky!"

I pictured my Aunt Becky winning over mom. She's this fat woman, rich, like us. Never did she win over mom, until now. Maybe she jumped and her saliva flowed from her mouth... or... She pulled up her petty pants while jumping in joy. Oh, how glad must she be. She's my least favorite aunt, though. She's don't give a damn giving me money for Christmas or even for my birthday, for Pete's sake.

"What? What now?" My mom asked.

"Uhh... What?"

"Why didn't you tell me? That... that... I can't even say it!"

"But you said it awhile ago."

"I know, right? Look at me, there's no one you can be with than Brandon Stine. You pursue him!" she shouted. She took off her pearl earrings and replaced it with the emerald ones.

"Mom, don't change earrings while driving! It's dangerous!"

"And, why not? My car's automatic. Not like the one your dad drives, a cheap manual Sedan. Uhh... I feel seasick when I remember those days."

"Those days? Mom, you kept telling me about that!" Oh God.

"But you must keep it in mind. So that you will learn from your dad's mistakes."

"Isn't that your mistake, too?"

"Oh... whatever. So... there's this one night, nineteen eighty... six. Right, nineteen eighty six. Me and your dad was dating back then, on a..."

"On a cinema, polluted with drug addicts and poor people... and then..."

My mom raised an eyebrow on me and then continued looking at the driveway. "You are ridiculous! By the way, how did you two broke up?"

This is why I love my mom, she always chat with me in terms of boy talk.

"Well, he told me that he didn't need me at all..."

"Really"

"No, I kinda edited it."

"Just tell us, Ivy!" Theodora squealed.

"Don't blush, Theodora!"

Mom looked at Theodora. "Keep quiet, Dora!"

Theodora nodded.

I nodded like saying _can I continue?_ "The truth is, we broke up a long time ago. But, I didn't tell you. And then one time, he talked to me and..."

Theodora sneezed. "I'm sorry."

Mom tapped Dora. "Continue, darling."

"I thought he wants me back. So I prepared and do stuffs..."

"Oh, how cute, the two of you are!"

"Just shut up! Dora!" My mom shouted.

"And then, he told me that day. He doesn't need me. Because I'm mean!"

Then, I didn't know what urged me, but I cried a river.

"O, honey, that's okay. Too bad for him. One day, he'll regret everything he said." She tapped my shoulder.

"You're just telling me that because I'm your daughter and you are my mother."

My mom noticed we're infront our house; she stomped to give the car a break. "No hon, I'm serious."

"Your mom is right, Ms. Ivy." Theodora added. "He'll eat his words someday."

"Oh, Theodora, your southern accent makes me comfortable." And then she smiled. "You speak like my grandmother."

Theodora rolled her eyes.

I looked at myself in the mirror for the very last time before heading to school.

"Hmm... quite impressive."

Mom peeked at my room. "Yes, I picked a good dress. That is Donna Karan."

I felt the blue dress, embellished with beautiful designs. "I love it, mom! It's so silky."

"Get Brandon."

"What?" I looked at her in the eye. "No way." Even though in my heart, I want to take him back.

"Do whatever you can. Appearance is just part one, you do part two."

"And what is part two?"

"You flirt."

I widened my eyes and held my mom's hands. "I don't need him, mom. He only needs me, but I don't."

"I do not care!" And she walked out.

Sometimes, my mom was like this. She wants, she gets. But, even though I do everything I can, she seems unsatisfied. Heck.

Today's the last day of school. Semestral break, next month. It will be fun. I knew it!

I passed by the library, peeking at Brandon. I sneaked a quick look.

Brandon saw me. Gosh.

And then I glanced again.

And then he caught me. "Just go in here, if you wanted to see me." And then he whispered something to his friends. It something like _I like peanut butter jelly... and bubble gum ice cream_. Something like that.

I fixed the crumples in my dress and went inside. "Hi, Brandon!" I sounded like nothing happened between us.

"Yea?" He just said. What the F? After all that happened he just said, 'Yea?'

Without knowing, it just came out of my mouth. "What's wrong with you?"

Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. Disaster alert.

"What?" He rose.

"No! That's not what you think it meant." I tried to come up with something to say but nothing comes into my mind.

He fixed his new glasses into his nose and looked at me closely. "Then, what did you meant." He said, not looking at me.

"Can you quit typing?"

"Of course, not. Remember, this is what I chose? Right?"

"No! What I meant was stop writing for a second."

He clicked something like _save_, or whatever it is. "Okay, now what?"

"I came here, to tell you..." I can't say anything.

_I slapped him in the face and said "You lying bastard! Go to freaking hell!" And then I kicked his face and took his glasses away and crunched it up. I pulled his newly waxed hair until it all came off. And then I slapped him over and over again. I tear his paperworks and stomped on it. He was crying the whole time. Buwahaha!_

Oh no. That's just my imagination. "I just want to tell you... that I sell yummy candies and snickers-covered apples. You know, the project for Economics."

"I know you, Ivy. Just tell it to me."

Oh my, if you weren't just so cute I would give up right now.

"I just want to tell you..."

He rubbed his brows. "Just spill it out. I have a bunch of things to do."

"Okay, whatever!" I raised my voice.

He looked at me, embarrassed.

"You ass! Meet me at the lagoon, later." I said sarcastically.

"Why would I?"

_Why would you? You are a real dumb ass! _I suddenly realized that I didn't really said that. "Just go." And I gestured a bye-bye. "Ciao, hon."

I walked gleefully as I exit the library. Smiling as I exit. I have a completely brilliant plan. If he don't want me, then I don't want him, too. But he must remember, _Revenge is a Virtue, a big one._

I went to the cafeteria to meet Ruth.

"Ruth, you think this is a good idea?" I asked her.

"Yes, it is." she responded.

"Now, you call your mean friends. Let's meet them there." Then I smiled an evil laugh.

"Ciao!" Ruth sent off.

"Adieu!" I yelled.

I headed to Brandon, to remind him. I need to reassure everything's at the right flow. Of course, he's still in the library. In see a man in blue polo shirt. Surely, it's him.

"Hi, Brandon!" he doesn't turn around. It's not Brandon...or maybe it's him. "Brandon!" I said and tapped him on the shoulders.

He turned around. Oh no, it isn't Brandon. "Yes?" He's the scruffy guy I met in the library. The one who handed me the letter.

"Oh, sorry I thought you were Brandon. Go back to work."

"So, you don't want to know where Brandon is?"

He looked, his eyes glistening. "You know where he is?"

"Not really, but I can help you."

"And...how's it possible?" I looked at him; he stared back. "Okay, just tell me how."

"You give these papers to…"

And before he could continue, I responded. "What the? Are you serious?"

"Do I look like a clown?" He rubbed his stubbly chin. "Maybe, I do. But really, I'm serious."

In desperation, I need to take the offer. I scratched my head though there's something itchy. "So, to whom will I give those?"

"Mister Archer Lewis. The current editor-in-chief, remember?"

"Uhh…no." Really, I don't remember any Archer or any Lewis. Maybe I don't even care about their department. They are the dreariest group ever. Who the hell wants to join the English club? Duh, they are crazy. And no one even reads the school paper. It's full of trashy things. They just rewrite everything they see in the national newspaper. It's so tedious. And the only reason many people wants to join the club? – because they had a big potential and a strong candidate for the school presidency. Simply because everyone likes them, or what. Most of them are rich bachelors; and when I say bachelors, totally NO girlfriend. They are so conservative. And we girls are so unlucky, 'cause most of the guys applies for the presidency. So, there's no one we could date with. Oh, I remember, it's because of our stupid headmaster – the one who added 'No Girlfriend' as a requirement for candidacy. 'Cause it will allot more time for the school projects etcetera, etcetera, rather than spending time for dates, dinner, parties, and everything fun. The only discreet people left in the campus, well not really discreet – The drunks, weed hitters, punks-slash-rockers, and some are _skuglies_ (skinny and ugly).

Is Brandon going to run for president? Hmm…Please, not. But if ever he will, I will not support him in his campaigns or even vote for him (maybe that's an exception, since no one knows who you voted for, right?).

I remember those voting-slash-election days we had last year. And the winner? Is the fugly (fag and ugly) Theresa Martinez. Oh my gosh, just seeing her face makes you spit your heart away. I remember those times. I never really wanted to vote, because Brandon doesn't want me to vote any candidate, for he said, 'No one's qualified'. Maybe he just thought, he qualifies most. But anyway, I voted for this man, he's very young and looks sweet (I'm not a cougar, FYI). So, I voted for him. But according to the grapevine, he's geeky and techy. And he never knew how to date a woman. But unfortunately, I just learned of that after voting. And this is the juiciest embarrassment ever: When it comes to counting, there's just two of us who voted for him. And guess who the other one is? He himself – the candidate! I still laughed hard when I remember those times. I'm completely obtuse when it comes to looks and fashion sense.

Sensible enough, the election process in our school is fair and square. Not until now…*evil laugh*. Two months after the semestral break comes the election of school council. Let's see who'll make the spot. But I am sure, it's not Brandon.

"Archer Lewis is in the second floor, first phase. Dark-Blue-Black-Grayish door."

"It's Prussian. A shade of dark blue with a touch of grayness. " I'm really wise.

"Oh, right. Prussian. You are very clever, Miss McAllister. Now, you take this."

Oh my gosh. Did he just asked me to fetch a thick pile of papers? It's one-ruler thick! "Are you freaking joking? This is so much."

"Okay, you put those down and just leave."

"Oh no, I'm just joking, you know, j-o-k-i-n-g. I'm just kidding around."

He nodded and opened his mouth. What?

"Prussian door, right?"

"Right. And when you got there, ask mister Lewis where is your boyfriend"

Having a hard time holding the papers, I can't say a word.

I fetched all the paper works. Some fell off my arms, while some flew away. It's okay, the scruffy guy or Archer Lewis will not notice it anyway. Suddenly, I felt my body hair rising. OMG, it's so cold. I think a ginormous wind is coming.

Panic attack! All the papers flew away.

"Oh my gosh, Oh my… please help; help!!!!" I yelled louder and louder.

It lacked so much. From one ruler to one hotdog. What am I going to do? Nevermind, they'll never going to detect it. I wish.

I saw the Prussian door marked 'do not disturb'. Who in earth will put a sign like that in their door?

I knocked "Mister Lewis?" I called.

"Look at the sign outside my door." I can barely hear it clearly; 'cause who is conversing behind doors? duh.

"It says 'Do not disturb'" I shouted, so he could hear it.

I waited for a response. four seconds…five… six… seven… four minutes… five…

"What?"

I looked like a dork here. "I said, it says 'Do not disturb'!"

"Now, what are you doing?"

What does he mean? "I'm talking to you right now."

"No, dumb blonde! You're disturbing!"

"FYI, I'm not dumb and I'm not blonde either." I didn't get a response. "Can I come in? I brought some paperworks."

Again, I waited minutes and minutes waiting outside, I'm losing time for my plan. "From whom?" Oh, at last.

"From the scruffy guy at the library." I waited again. "The shabby one."

"Come in."

I waited for the door to open but it didn't. I don't want to open it myself. Because the last time I did it, I didn't know the person inside is going to open the door; so we both opened the door, I'm at one side and the guy at the other. And since he's more stronger, I was the one who got hit by the door. And my mom spent fifty-thousand dollar to fix my nose. But it's not really obvious, right? No scars, no trace of surgery. Apparently, that's my first surgery.

"I said, come in!" Mr. Lewis shouted.

"Hey, don't you open the door."

"Why would I?! You open the door."

I opened the door and saw Mister Archer Lewis sitting at a comfortable chair, facing backwards from me. I looked at everywhere and saw a portrait of him.

In disbelief, I asked him. "You are Archer Lewis?"

"Why not? Do I look like a Jack Lewis?" He asked, not looking at me.

"Oh my gosh…OMG! You bastard!"

"What?" Then he turned his chair around. "Ivy McAllister?"

"You are…the…"

Then his face suddenly turned into a robotic phase. "Have we met before?"

I want to say _Yes, we did. Remember, prom night? You're my date? _Oh my gosh. The freaky dork.

"If I've mistaken, we never met before." he answered his own question.

I laughed. "I'm sorry I've mistaken, I haven't seen you before. My bad." I laughed again, this time, hardly.

The bastard can't remember me. Now that he wears a nice three-piece tux and a pair of Jeffrey West shoes, he can't remember me?

"Wow, that's a nice pair of Jeffrey West. It has a good texture. You bought it at Topshop, right?"

He was amazed. "How did you know? Oh my, You are an expert."

"They do a line of leather shoes slash boots in Topshop. And that kind of shoes can only be bought at Europe. you've gone to Europe?" What a rich bitch. If I know he's rich, instead of just knowing that he's a dork, I would marry him instead of Brandon Stine. He's so fine… OMG.

"Yes, in London. Quite many times. I'm actually British and I work for some British magazine. I review westend shows and some British movies."

"Quite impressive. But why are you here, and not in London?"

"I am born here, studied in this school and will die here." Then he looked at me from head to toe. "Writing in London is just a part-time job whenever I visit the country."

"Oh, I see."

"Wow. Nice _Donna Karan _cocktail dress. Good embellishment."

Oh my gosh. As in oh my freaking gosh. "Are you gay?"

He laughed hard but manly. "No, I'm not!" Laugh again, even harder. "I just live around in things like those."

"Okay… can you guess what my shoes are?"

"Prada. Satin cerulean."

I am stunned. I looked at him from head to toe just like what he did. I need to know his suit. "And you look great in that Pierre Cardin suit."

He looks strange. "No, this isn't Cardin, sorry. It's a Guy Laroche."

"Are you sure? Oh my… you are a man-gay. Man but gay." Then I laughed hard.

"You can call me that."

He still looks a little dorky, by the way. But he's a bit dorky before. If he only did wear those things, I would like him. But he's a little gorgeous now.

I looked at his vest, and recognized it immediately. "Oh my… Oh my! Panic attack! That is a Ravazzolo?

"Yes." He looks a bit awkward now.

"Ravazzolo suits are, if not the most, one of the most expensive and well-made suits in the America!"

He seems uninterested. "Okay. Let's stop talking about brands. Just give me the papers."

I gaily smiled at him while showing him the papers. "Here it is. From the scruffy-shabby guy at the library."

He looks like there's something wrong. "Hmm…"

"Here's the green labeled, and here are the red ones."

"Thank you. You may leave."

I smiled at him. "Okay, no problem." I got my wallet. I can't let this pass. I took one calling card and left it at his desk. "Here, call me if you need me."

"Thanks."

And I left the office.

Then suddenly, I remembered. Brandon!

I opened the door without any notice. "Wait! Do you know where Brandon is?"

"Brandon who?" he asked. As if there's many Brandon in the school. Or maybe he met some Brandon in London or in New York.

"Stine, Brandon Stine."

He kept on thinking. "Oh, Brandon, one of my writers! He's at the administrator's office. Interviewing the guests that came awhile ago."

"Guests?"

He types something and then looks at me. "The sociologists and anthropologist from NYU, or whatever school. I'm not really sure."

How come he's not sure? He's the editor-in-chief! My goodness. "Thank You, Adieu." was the only thing I could say.

In the speed of lightning, I went to the Administrator's office. Why do everyone get their own office, why not me? Oh my, I need my own office.

I heard some murmur, chit-chats and all that professional talk. I also heard of something about Global Warming. That's good, party all night long. Long ago, we only have house warming, and now global warming? Wow! That party would be a hit!

I went inside the room only to find out he was busy. But I do not care. Did he care for me?

"Hey Brandon!" I interrupt.

He gestured something like _wait _or _stop_.

I whispered. "Later, okay?" then gave him a thumb up.

I received a thumb up, too. This is going to be great.

* * *

Chapter 3:

The Thin Line Between Bloodfeud and Vengeance

Me and Ruth's friends met at the lagoon after checking out on Brandon.

"Hello I'm Kendra Campbell!" says one girl in a bandana top.

I looked at her hair. It's blonde. She looks dumb; but I'm not saying blondes are dumb. She just looks very dense. But, her eyebrows looks mean.

"Bonjour, I'm Brooke." This one has a fashion sense like me. She's not too brunette. It has an accent of blonde. I can't say if she's dumb. "Madeleine Brooke Thompson, I prefer Brooke." Maybe she's really wise, well, who knows? And, she speaks French.

"Heather." She said it gracefully. Wow. She said it exactly how I would if my name is Heather!

I want to know her last name! "Heather…"

"Heather Buonofante."

"Are you French or Irish?"

"Neither. Pure American." she answered.

This girl exactly acts like me, and undoubtedly, she's beautiful. Whenever I look at her, it's as if I'm looking at the mirror. She has this brown hair with dark blonde highlights. And – it's slicked back into a ponytail. It's silky and curly at the end just like mines.

"Hi Heather!" And then I looked at the other girls. They seemed to be waiting for me to greet them. "Ruth, have you told them?"

"Yes, I did. And they are pretty ready." Ruth stated.

"Pretty ready?" I asked them. "I want them ready to the bones!"

Ruth postured like a commander. "You all ready?"

"Yes, we are." The girls answered, gaily and sweet.

I laughed hard. "Okay, stop it. It's uber corny."

And then they all laughed.

"Now, you all go and do what you must." I announced.

Wow. Three girls. Three me. This looks like a real game.

I can still bear in my mind that one time. There were three girls, wearing the same kind of clothes (I'm sure it's not them). I was in elementary back then. When I was first bullied. Bullshit. They scare the crap out of me. I can still remember their names. Taylin, Kyle and Ingrid. Bratty names I know (as if mine wasn't). Unlike me, they're all blondes, mean, powerful and like me, rich. They dress sluttishly and short. They weren't that tall, and they're face? Uhh! It's full of freckles.

I still can't bear it. I can't tell it until now.

Four-thirty PM; sharp. the game will begin.

I hid under a bush under a big tree. I need to watch the games begin. Ha-ha-ha!

Beside me was Ruth, observing, too.

"Ruth! Are you sure they know everything?"

"Yes, of course. They're the best sophomore girls."

So, I see. I looked at Brook coming to Brandon. He's waiting in the bench where we broke up.

Oh my, Brooke's really good.

"Flirt Brandon!" Ruth whispered to herself.

She was holding a backpack. It's kind of boyish, but it's a real good trick.

As I was looking far away, I can barely hear them.

Brooke was walking towards Brandon. "Mr. Brandon Stine? Oh my gosh!"

He was stunned by her and confused at the same time. "Yes, I'm Brandon Stine, why?"

"Wait, got to get my camera. I gotta get me a pic of you!" And then she pinched his cheeks. "Here take my bag. Just wait for me here."

"But I'm waiting for someone."

Brooke looked panicked. "Just hang on for a sec." She told him quickly.

I must admit. Brandon looks weird. He looks geekily hot. WTF.

I smiled and looked at the mirror. Suddenly, I realized this is not funny anymore. But

then without any time, Brooke went back to Brandon holding a camera. Then, she took her

backpack.

She browsed for something. "Oh my gosh, Brandon! You have my thongs in your bag?

Here, it's my name."

She held up a black thong, with a pink B-R-O-O-K-E on it.

I want to laugh hard but I can't. Brandon might notice me.

What a male bimbo.

But then, I suddenly felt more bad. I'm so mean. Ha-ha-ha. Who cares? But he's really embarrassed and discomfited. I haven't seen him again so mortified like that after the shameful thing I've done to him last spring break.

We were at a mate's party (I wasn't invited, but who cares? Don't they need me there?). It's a pool party and we were in Hawaiian attires. I brought some Hawaiian pizza and some piña colada (it's some kind of pineapple drink and it's really delicious. I use to drink them in our Malibu vacation last, last summer). Well, anyway, we were at that party and there were lots of food, music and dancing.

"This party's amazing." Brandon commented.

I looked at him. "I know, right. But, do you like this more than my Jamaican bash?"

"Not really. This is just a bit discreet and descent. Your party's wild, cuppycake."

"Really? Wow. I did not know that. But it's tiring to just stand in there like a wall plant. Like now, I look like a standing Mona Lisa painting; frowning, to add. Just chit-chatting here."

We walked towards the cocktail bar and took some drinks. It's something like Baileys, Margarita and Gin Tonic.

I asked the Bartender. "Can I get the Baileys?"

"Okay, ma'am. Baileys for two?" He asked.

Then I looked at Brandon to ask if he wants one.

"No need, cuppycake."

"No, just one." I demanded the bartender.

The bartender gave me a glass of luscious, creamy Baileys. I drank a glass and then mingled with everyone.

I saw the dork I dated last prom night… or Archer Lewis. I was just shocked when he came to me. In long-sleeved polo and perky trousers, he still looked like a dork. Maybe that time, he don't know how to dress properly.

"Ivy!" Archer said, geekily. At least now, he has a name and not just 'dork'.

"Oh, hi!" I want to add _dork_.

"So, I'm just wondering, after prom night, can we have a second date?"

What? Dork. No freaking way even if you're the last man on earth.

I didn't respond.

"How about, a group date. I can bring my friends with us, if you're shy having just the two of us.

"Not really. And not that."

"So, you just want the two of us?"

I looked at him, confused. "I don't know if I have time." Then I don't know what to say. My eyes lingered on Brandon going out from the male's room. "Hey, just wait a minute Brandon's here already."

"Wait." he held my arms tightly.

What a dork. In anger things just came out of my mouth. "What do you want?!" I yelled.

"A date. Ya know, just the two of us."

"A date? Don't you know how much you stink, and now you want a date?"

Then he smelled his armpits. What the F. Dumb.

"And do you know how your breath smells? It's like you eat celery and onions for your whole life!" I said, straightly.

He then breathes in his palms and tried to smell it.

"And you have no fashion sense at all! You buy cheap clothes from Kmart!"

The dork looked at the clothes he wore at the moment.

"And, you don't know how to please a woman and you are way too much of a gentleman which is a major turn-off!"

"What are you trying to tell me?"

I can't come out of words. "You… you are Fugly! An ugly fag!"

"I ain't gay!"

"Yes, you are. For me, you are!"

I notice everyone looks at us now. Even Brandon who is about to try to stop us.

"And you are one ugly freak! Fix your freckly face!" I yelled.

I know I'm mean, but for the sake of… well, I don't know why I did that. Oh my.

I looked at him and he's about to respond. "You are so mean!" And his eyes were teary.

"You get out of my sight!" I said to him.

He dares me. "No, you get out of my sight!"

"And why?"

"This is my house and this is my sister's party. And not yours."

I don't have any thoughts that time because of my anger. But until I learned he was Archer Lewis, I'm awed of their house. It's a lot bigger than ours (well, that made sense because they are three children of their mother). And I'm so foolish for entering a party I didn't know who threw. This is so bashful.

"Ivy, let's go." I heard Brandon said from my back.

I was in a funny anger mood. "No, I will not go. I'm invited here."

I went to the cocktail bar for the second time. And this time, I ordered the margarita. Honestly after drinking the whole Bailey thing, I was too dizzy and I think it hit me.

The wind in the pool area was so strong that it made me dizzier. And all the people chatting, people dancing, singing, itchy straw skirts and smell of raw tuna; they just seem to make my spirit float out of my body.

And for once again, the geeky dork came to me.

"I'm so sorry, Ivy. For the fight thing that happened."

People say that when you are drunk, you forgot everything that happens around you. That's one of a criminal's alibi when it comes to their committed crime. They say, they didn't know they raped this lady, or killed a guy because they are _drunk_. But, when it comes to me, I remember everything; from what this girl wore or the gossips I heard that night. It's like my mind has its own notepad that when I need information it just comes to mind.

"What the freak are you telling me?" I asked him, in a drunk manner.

"Is freak, freaking, and freaky your favorite word?"

I came to think about it. "Yes, and why…whaaaaaaaa…yyy… do you caaaaaaaare?"

As I looked like I'm about to fall, he caught me. "Hey, you're drunk, be careful."

"I'm not falling! And you get out of here. 'Cause I will not even give myself to you though I'm drunk. I'm not that kind of woman."

"And, for your information and further education, I'm not that kind of man, too." He held me on the shoulders while I kept on keeping it away. "I never take an opportunity if a person is weak."

"I'm not weak, I'm still strong." I emphasized the word strong as if I'm _Hulk_. Then I gestured my arms into an _L _shape, bulging my muscles.

He laughed. "Wow! That was amazing."

What is he doing? Trying to get along with me? He's too opportunistic! "Don't talk to me. I don't want to talk to you!"

"Ha-ha-ha! You're drunk, Ivy. And besides, Brandon's not here to support you."

"Oh?! And that's why you're here because he's not here? Didn't you just called yourself not opportunistic awhile ago?

"Yes, I did. And this is not taking opportunity."

I laughed, like how he laughed. But, I think I cackled like a witch. "You, you get out of heeeeere. Befoooore I get the shit our of you!"

Then I shrugged a fist on him as if I'm about to punch.

"Woah!" Then he raised both of his hands. "It's over, I promise."

Coward dork.

Then as he strode far away from me, Brandon's about to approach me.

"Brandon!" I shouted. "This geeky dork!" I pointed Archer. "What's his name by the way?" I asked myself. "That is a dork!" I felt butterflies in my stomach.

Brandon ran quickly towards me. "Ivy, you're full. You've drank a lot.

"No, I haven't!"

I was shocked when Brandon shouted, "Oh my! Oh my!" what's funny is, he said it a lot of times.

I am confused why he shouted but when I looked at his eyes, he seems disgusted.

"Are you loathed of me?"

"No! Heck! You vomited on my Lacoste poloshirt! Damn!"

No way, I dropped the ball on this one.

I saw all my… you know… all discolored Baileys in his shirt and his cream pants.

"I'm sorry!" My alcohol soaked minded suddenly came back to normal. "My bad!"

And then, the funny thing is, I tried to wipe them off using the pool water. So I scooped the water using my palms and pour it over his shirt.

"What are you doing?!" He looks really mad.

"I'm taking the goos off." And then, continued pouring water over his shirt.

As I used my dress to wipe off the rest, I think I stepped on his feet.

Then he screamed. What a male bimbo.

"Shh…Shh… sorry cuppycake!" I apologized.

He jumped with one feet raised and suddenly, he fell of the pool.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaah!" I screamed. I tried to reach him, but I can't. I don't want to wet my dress! For Pete's sake! "Hold on, Brandon! Hold on!" I tried to help him.

"Ivy!" he shouted.

"I'm so sorry! Omigosh!" I panicked. "Panic attack!"

Then, I suddenly remember, he knew how to swim. "Damn you! You knew how to swim in the first place!"

He reached for the ground and pull himself up. All the people were looking at us.

"Yes, I know how to swim!" He cackled.

"Stop it, okay?! Stop it! I'm freaking humiliated.

"You are funny. I only stopped when you said _panic attack._ I know it just gets worse when you say that."

"Stop it! All the people are staring at us!"

Whatever happened, I'm forgiven, he's forgiven and we're back together.

Okay, back to reality; so much flashbacks.

All the people stared at Brandon and they were laughing. No, this can't be happening, not to Brandon. Not again.

In conscience, I stood up and went ahead to Brandon.

"Stop it, Brooke!" I told her.

"What?" Brooke asked.

Brandon's confused. "You know her?"

"Yes, I mean No! Of course not!" I denied

Brandon knows me, he knows I'm lying. "And you know all about this, right?"

"Yes, I do. I meant, No, I have nothing to do with it! I don't have a thong named Brooke!"

Brandon looked at me seriously.

"Okay, yes. I did it all." I admitted.

"And, why?" he asked, now furious.

In my surprise, Kendra and Heather came in.

"What's happening? What am I suppose to do with these tampons?" Kendra asked. "Is my turn done? I'm not doing anything yet!

"Me, too!" Heather added. "I haven't placed the Playboy magazine in his desk yet. Oh, God. This costs more than my daily allowance!"

"Just snap it out, guys! I'll pay for it." I calmed them.

Brandon became more puzzled. "So, you know her, her and her?" He asked, pointing each of the girls.

Ruth came running. "What now, Ivy?"

"Just wait a minute, Ruth."

I become aware of the people around us. Aware for Brandon, not me. For his supposed career, of course.

"I'm sorry Brandon. Yes, this is all my fault."

As I saw Ruth about to add something. "But Iv.."

"It's Ruth's fault, Brooke's, Kendra's and Heather's." I concluded.

"No, Ivy. This is all your fault. You want revenge, right?" Asked Brandon, now fuming.

"Kind of…" I answered.

He then held my hand. Wow! This is so romantic. He wants me back?

"If you want revenge, then slap me!" He shouted.

I'm shocked. _Wow! _"Are you fucking kidding me?" I asked him, now sarcastic.

"C'mon, slap me in the face. That's what you want to do even before, right" He dared.

Yes, he was right. I want to slap him in the face even before. But, what kind of motion is that? Letting someone slap your face?

"What on earth are you waiting for? Slap me, right now!" He dared again.

"I don't know what to say, Brandon." I'm startled.

"I didn't need something to come out of your mouth! Just slap me. After all, it's over."

It's over? Is he dead? Over?

Hastily, I felt an urge of anger inside my body.

What's wrong with Brandon, he's really changed a lot. Long, long ago, I can't even imagine him like this. But now, I still can't take it all in. With him doing this to me, it's like he doesn't owe me anything; like I'm someone he knew three minutes ago. But for heavenly sake! I've known him for three years, and that three years seemed like all my life. In that three years, I knew him very well. I knew he plays PSP while pooping; or he's reading _Bridget Jones' Diary_, which is stereotypically for girls only. Oh, he also prefer floral patterns than stripes and he wears suits he got from rejects of some unknown brand. He watches MTV more than HBO; He wears long socks rather than short ones (well, that's not really a secret; most men in our school prefer long socks to 'protect' their legs. Why not just wear stockings?). What else? OK, that's too much. But my point is, why is he doing this to me? How many times have I asked that? Four, five, six?

In my anxiousness, I slapped him in the face. Really Hard. "Now, that's what you want! To slap you in the face, right? Now, that's what you get!" I slapped him again, again and again.

As he was about to place his fist on my face, I was scared. The people around were panicking. "No, no! Don't!" I heard the crowd say.

Ruth approached Brandon. "You are going to do that to a woman?"

Then he put his fist down.

"Look at this man," I said. "Who wants to marry someone like that? With a heavy hand?" I laughed. "This man deserves no one!" Then, I faced him. "Go. To. Hell." I cried.

Why does every day I'm with Brandon, I walked out sad. But, I promised myself never to be sad again, right?

"Girls, let's treat ourselves into a Choco Java Chip Frapuccino. Shall we?" I asked them.

And they all nodded.

We headed to Starbucks, one of my favorite places. The scent of coffee makes me comfortable and just sit on their comfy couch.

"What's on your mind when you stopped the plan?" Ruth took a sip of her Frap then continued. "I mean, you're the one who is very sensitive about the plan not to work."

"And besides, you worked hard to come out with such brilliant plan!" Heather added.

I looked at Kendra and Brooke; waiting for a response. Wow, they're really stupid. I'm right about Heather, she's really bright like me.

I remembered one time I'm bored. My mom and I are at a restaurant; she brought out the topic to guess what's on peoples mind in regards to their look.

"Look at this woman." She slightly pointed a woman in a jean-fabric jacket and a heinous skirt. "She has this strange face, right?"

"Yes, she looked like she wants to buy a cat."

"A cat? Are you serious, doesn't look like she will."

"Just watch", I said. With that said, I looked imbecilic.

The woman called the waiter and she was impatient.

"Oh my, she cancelled her order." My mom said, placing a hand on her mouth.

The woman took out her phone and called some numbers. "Can I buy a cat on Walmart?" asked the woman on her phone.

"You are psycho-pathetic! Did you actually new what she's up to?" My mom was stunned.

"No, not really. But she's so skinny as those cat owners. The cat buffs, you know." I explained. Now, I don't look like a dim-wit.

I heard voices talking behind my back.

"I was really shocked when Blake proposed to Catalina!" Said a woman.

"Then, what happened? Did she accepted the proposal?" said a voice, some what manly with a British accent. Actually he sounded gay. "I hope not. No way! Blake? He's inanimately goofy! No way, even me won't marry him." Oh, I'm right.

"Yes, of course she accepted it! But then afterwards…" Continued the woman.

"Afterwards…?" said the second person. "I don't want a cliffhanger! Come on!"

"When Catalina knew something about her Mexican childhood friend Nicos, which is her first love," Then she gulped, as if the next thing she'll say is very juicy. She then paused for a while and I heard some sipping.

"Do you still love him?" I was surprised, I screamed. The woman was the other woman of the male engagee? Wait, I'm puzzled! "Do you still love him?" Oh no, it's not the woman. It's Ruth!

"Shut up, Ruth! Why do you always need to interrupt?"

"Interrupt your silence?" She asked.

"No, just keep quiet." I requested.

I am waiting for them to continue the story.

"So, is this some kind of your yoga exercises or your meditation thingy?" Dumbly, Brook asked.

As I waited, I heard no response; Impatiently, I turned my head to the back while sipping my Frap. Oh, damn it! They left already! I didn't know what happened to Catalina and Blake!

"I didn't know what happened to Catalina and Blake and… Nicos…" I whispered.

"Well, who exactly is Catalina, Blake or Tacos?" Kendra confusedly asked.

"It's Nicos, not Tacos."

"Then who are they?"

I don't know what to tell. "Nevermind, just drink your Frapuccinos. I need to go." I looked at my watch. "Ten minutes okay? Now move!"

What happened to Catalina and Blake? Maybe this Nicos was a multi-billionaire and Catalina regretted breaking up with him. And they lived happily ever after. Wow… what a wonderful story they had – wait, what happened to Blake? He can't just let that happen! And anybody who has left their partners should be punished. But maybe Catalina's really nice and she just followed her heart over commitment. But isn't commitment connected to your heart?

Maybe Blake flew to Mexico and started Rumpus. Maybe he threw Shawarmas at them, while they are sweetly kissing. But no way, if that woman told the gay guy the news today then it must happened recently. I must be moving much forward. Maybe Blake was now depressed – or maybe I'm wrong at all! Maybe Catalina is not for the money, but the one she committed to. Oh, right. But Catalina sounds mean, maybe she did chose the money, or not – or, I'm really wrong at all. Maybe this Nicos is poor and not a multi-billionaire – And Catalina's really up for the money, so she chose Blake because he's way more richer than Nicos. maybe I should call mom if she knows someone in the name of Blake and Catalina being engaged. Oh, nevermind – I'll just do it later.

OK, back on the track.

"I love you, guys! See you next semester!" I bid goodbye to all of them. I'm always excited for breaks – Spring, summer, winter, autumn, Christmas break ; Whatever break it is, I always get too excited. It's like moving on. There are many chance you'll find someone new, or maybe I could find my true love – out of school. Goodbye St. John! Well, not at all.

* * *

Chapter 4:

A Blizzard on a Summer Day

I woke up the next day feeling like a summer bird. It's not really hot (can't even get a tan), but it's fine. I showered without opening the heater for the first time. Then as usual, well not really, I changed into house clothing (Elmo t-shirt and a Hello Kitty short).

My mom met me at my room, not knowing we're on vacation. Well, I didn't tell her; but it's not about surprising her.

She knocked at my door. "Hey, you are forty minutes late for school!" then another knock and another one.

I opened the door happily quick. "Mom, it's our semestral break!"

"When on earth did you had a semestral break?" she thought I was kidding around.

"Snap it out mom, didn't you know?"

"Oh, yeah, I remembered. Be sure to be here at home," she emphasized _home_. "Your dad will be here, 4:15 PM, sharp."

"Really?" I exclaimed with gleaming eyes.

"I know your excited, but don't be too much. He'll be here for just quite a few seconds."

I laughed and then pinch my mom on the shoulders. "You know he wouldn't do that!"

"Ha-ha-ha! Who knows about your father? He's very surprising – not in a good way. Sometime he'll be wearing a shiny face but mostly a soggy one."

I laughed harder. "Snap it out!", then laughed again. I know mom was happy making me laugh. She says, I have the best giggle in the whole, well, world. "So, why is he coming?"

"To get some clothes and give you your forever requested eyeglasses."

Come to think of it, My dad never comes to our house often; sometimes, once a month or even once every two months. Can you believe that? But what I cannot believe is myself; surviving without any dad. I know, I know; he's busy with his work in New York. But what's special about his work, I get to see him on TV, when MGC has special events. I always see him in movie premieres, usually on the first rows. I could see him wearing different suits everytime he's featured and never wears any of them again. Well, he's actually like me. I can now claim his job as a showbiz job, even though he denies it. Network managers work behind the scene, but my father's an exception. His bosses likes him on T.V., because apart from other Network managers, he really looked good.

Ever wonder why we're so rich, but then my dad only works for a company? That's because the president of MGC is my granddad, we're not really that close, but we get to visit him once in a blue moon. He really thinks we're poor just because he's richer than us (he doesn't have a great attitude). Originally, he gave my dad the CEO position but neglected it. He said he can gain his dignity by starting from the bottom. He wants everything he achieved came from his sweat and blood. But eventually, my granddad gives us furniture, gifts and some other time, cheques. So, it all doesn't came from my dad's hard work – if I know, he always sits on his desk exercising his hands on computer and signing papers. He was really responsible of almost everything. He approves upcoming shows, and then hands it out to the CEO. He is responsible if a show didn't come through or didn't hit the masses.

As mom said, we'll never know my dad. He's full of surprises. There's one time he came here without anything in his hands because according to him, my granddad got mad at him because of this hoax cheque. But I came up with an idea and talked to granddad. I said I'd be a prostitute so I could work for my family and dad don't need to work for him. And as you would expect, yes, he accepted dad back and I never became a slut. But, that's not true – the slutty part. I would never become a prostitute. Ha-ha-ha! It's just my own ways and tricks.

I love it when my dad comes at home giving me new pairs of Prada (because Manolo is more abundant in Beverly Hills) and some Belgian chocolate doughnuts. They're just heavenly. There came a time when my dad brought Skittles (the colorful candies that looked like M&Ms but when you chew them they tasted like Fruitella), He said you would taste the rainbow when you eat those, but actually it tasted like rainbow over polluted air. He brought along many of those and some candies form the Hershey's store in New York. But then, I got inspired of Project Runway (Oh, I love the show!), the episode where they made dress out of candies. So, I made one. By the way, let's not talk about that; they just came out looking like a cake dress. Imagine a cake-dress! Ha-ha-ha!

"And then…" I asked my mom.

She put her hands on the waist. "And what do you expect him to do more?" She then reached for her phone. "Hello, This is Miss Nancy McAllister…"

As she walked out I said, " I want a sister!" I yelled.

Then she smiled and sat beside me.

But that's not a joke, that's actually true, I want a sister, or brother, maybe. I want someone to care for even though I'm not caring (my favorite expression: I don't care!). But maybe it's a bright idea having someone to prepare clothes for or maybe fix their hair or teach the ABC. But that's hard, I guess – children never learns quickly. Maybe I wish for a _gifted sister-slash-brother._

Bright idea! But gifted people are too smart to handle. And sometimes they think ahead and eventually becomes boastful. I want a _not-so-gifted sister-slash-brother_. Yes, good idea. Now, that's perfect. A not so gifted sister or brother. But aren't bright minded people looked ugly? (I sooner or later thought not all of them are ugly because Heather wasn't. But the thing is, I don't want to take the risk of having an ugly-bright-minded sister/brother.) Maybe what I really wanted is a _beautiful-slash-handsome not-so-gifted sister-slash-brother_. Wow, that's quite nice.

Oh, and maybe I can give them their future plans. Like suggesting to them if they want to be a doctor, lawyer, or maybe become the president (those things that I don't want for myself). Imagine, having a relative that's a real professional. But that's not life in Beverly Hills. There are many professionals here but the biggest profession is to become a Chihuahua owner. Furthermore, people here don't like serious people. But who cares? Beverly Hills is the place to be; even though other people from other state thinks Beverly Hills together with Malibu are hometown of dumb girls spending their time under the sun. But that's not true at all – well, with me. I don't own any Chihuahua (that's for the moment but I'm thinking about it).

Beverly Hills is the place to be, I thought once, and I can think of it a few more times. Everywhere you look there's something to look forward to. Maybe that's why my dad was a surprising person because he grew up here; and maybe, I'm surprising too.

Many people says there's a lot more opportunities in New York, but I think there's far more here. This day you'll take a cab the next day you'll ride a convertible. Which was true (why would I say it if it weren't). And more than that, you'll spend more wisely shopping in Rodeo and Beverly drive rather than Times Square in New York. And other than that, we have many boulevards: Wilshire, Santa Monica and the Sunset Boulevard, which have a breath-taking view.

But I'm not actually against New York. In fact, I love them. The counter-part of the show _Beverly Hills: 90210 _(which I really like), _Gossip Girl_ – which is set on the upper east side of New York. There are other times that I wanted to go to NY because it really is inviting (especially the shops which are far much than the ones in Rodeo); but then I realized Beverly Hills is my own New York, and adding to that is our contribution to the environment because of our countless Palm trees which you would see as you pass each of the boulevards. But, if you weigh New York and Beverly Hills, NY might be heavier in terms of population, but when it comes to the one closest to my heart, it's BH.

Wait where are we? I just talked about how it's a great idea having a sister or a brother, then I talked about Beverly Hills then NYC.

"A sister?" mom asked.

"or… a brother, perhaps. A gay brother."

She picked strands of hair covering my face and tucked them into my ears. "I can't, I'm busy. And besides, you're dad is busy, too. And when that time comes –"

"You'll be on menopausal?"

My mom was shocked. "No! Of course not!"

"You mean, you'll not be menopaused?"

"No!" then she giggled. "What I actually mean is, by the time I'll be pregnant you are old enough already, and you may have moved out and you can't take care of your sister" then she paused, then gulped. "…or brother."

"Okay, whatever. By the way mom, do you know anyone by the name of Catalina and Blake? Engaged?" then I laughed inside.

"Yes, actually I think I do." then she thought for a moment. "Except they're not related, nor engaged. Why?"

"Nothing, actually. It's just some of my sneaky habits."

"What exactly do you mean? Wait, You blow your hair dry and I'll call Rachel."

Rachel's her assistant. She's been in my mom's support since – since birth. When Rachel's nineteen, she was secretary to my grandpa (mother's side). And now that Grandpa died, She's now working for mom. She was forty-five right now, and her beauty never changed. She wore antique clothes that emphasizes her hour-glass shape. Sometimes, my mom was angry about the idea of Rachel dressing up – because mom felt she dresses like the boss rather than a secretary. Mom actually told her to tone down her fashion sense and instead wear normal secretary dress. In fact, mom asked me to give her the right dress but when I offered Rachel my help she insists. Somehow, I thought mom was jealous of her; because she had more pearl jewelries than mom, but I told mom pearl was out. So she gave all her pearls to Rachel and mom bought more gold, silver and jade – which is very classy. But nevertheless, she never gets over pearls and I always remind her of Rachel when she wore those. But then, she insisted that she just wore pearls in special occasion or whenever her blazers looked more formal with pearls.

There are times, I saw mom copying my accessorial styles. Big chandelier earrings paired with circular-shaped necklaces. And when she saw that I wore wood accessories, she wore them too. But I confronted her that it never looked good on her. So she stuck with classic colors. Okay, I admit, My mom never had a good fashion sense but as long as she listens to me, she will be as beautiful as I am. Wait – mom should've said that line.

Mom has a very funny fashion sense, but she's not the type of person that gets whatever's on top of her drawer. She's very sensitive when it comes to what she's wearing, but she don't know the right _type_. Usually she'll call me before going to work, presenting me two sets of clothes and asks me to choose one. But many times, I chose neither of what she presented. I admit, she knows how to choose a dress for me, but she never know how to pick her own clothes. One day, she'll wear something very young then I'll remind her that she's not young anymore – being an adult meant a lot of classiness. And I don't know why she doesn't want to be classy when I want to rush things up. Who doesn't want to wear a white, fluffy Armani gown. I mean, that's every girl's dream. To walk on an aisle dressed to perfection. And my mom doesn't like that – or maybe, it's just the other way; when you're young you always want _this_, but when you came to the right age, you just don't want it anymore. And I don't want to be like that.

I asked on _Yahoo! Answers_, a website where you can ask any question you want. I asked _How can I remain my wishes when I'm young until I grow up? _or something like that, I just don't remember it quite well. The top answer is make a list of the things you want now and put it in your wallet and read it when you grow up; then, check each of your achievements until you finish them all. But, what the heck? I will not do that, it's very psychology-ish. I mean, that's what is suggested for someone to do when a person has problem with memory, or jealousness or Kleptomania. No way.

But I find myself doing it one time, and realizing there are _twenty-seven back-to-back of bond papers _that I wanted to do. I can't accomplish it all, but I mean, I believe in "When there's life, there's hope". Let's just hope things flow the way I wanted it.

Back to the clothes thingy, My mom's a designer, she sells her designs in her own boutique. I once saw her boutique out on Rodeo and it was fabulous. It was very stylish, very modern and chic. Her designs were great, but I always innovate them and edit some of the color choice and added some added accents. She was really mad when I was commenting on her designs but at the end of the day, she always thanked me. She specialized on the modern young professional – most silks and linen, luxury fabrics. One time, she asked me why I always wear other designers' clothes rather than hers. But I said, that her clothes are not really for me; so I asked her back "Why're you buy clothes from others?". So I think she understood.

"Rachel, have you made the arrangements with the Hollywood School regarding the sponsorship?" then she nodded and said "Aahs" and "Oohs". Then I was surprised when she asked, "Do you know by any chance someone Catalina and Blake engaged?" then she paused, as if listening to Rachel. "Yes? Ivy, she knows someone Catalina and Blake. Should you talk to her?"

I nodded and she handed me the phone.

"Rachel! Hi, how are you? Still wearing pearls?"

"As always!" Rachel answered; her voice youthful.

"So, I heard you know someone Catalina and Blake?"

Then she paused, then I heard the sound of typewriter. "Yes, why?"

"Nothing, I'm just wondering what happened to them?"

"They're engaged." Then she paused, seems interested talking with me. "Just last week."

"How are you related?"

"Blake's a client of mine; in my baking business."

"So, I see. How about Nicos? Who is Nicos?"

"Oh Nicos! He's her childhood friend."

I thought for a moment. "So, how are Nicos and Catalina?"

"Oh, poor Nicos!"

"Why?! Catalina chose Blake over Nicos?" I asked excitedly. Mom looked at me and seem confused.

"No! Nicos died just the night after their engagement! Poor boy! He died because of heat stroke!

I'm shocked! I'm all wrong! Oh my!

Remembering that, I always laugh at myself.

"What happened?" mom asked.

I rolled on my bed, laughing and ignoring her.

I stayed at home wondering what to do and where to go. So bored, I made a list of things I can do.

Go swimming in Malibu.

No can do, There are many people swarming the beach. And besides, it's hot outside.

Get a nice tan. I'll contact Dewey from the Salon to serve me.

Tan doesn't look good with brunettes. I think tanning is specially made for blondes.

Shop for new tops and trousers.

There aren't any new arrivals of tops from Zara or even any other shops, only Barney's do. But there's no way I'll go in there ever again.

Joy ride to Six Flags.

Might vomit on my dress. The rollercoaster there really leaves a creep on me and gives me a seasick sensation.

Go visit Ruth, Kendra, Brooke or Heather.

Uhh, no way. They're the one suppose to visit me and I. I look desperate to have some company.

Window shop on Rodeo Drive

What's the deal, I can't buy anything in the end. Well, window shopping ends up on real shopping for me. Haha!

Stay at home, surf the net, and eat sweets.

I might consider this one.

Looking at the mirror (for the twelfth time actually), I looked at myself (Obviously!

What would you do with mirrors? To look at someone else?). I realized I don't really like breaks. I can't practice my so called _mean girls skills_. Oh, I must find a way. I always struggle like this when it comes to breaks. It's weird. I thought _breaks _are exciting, but then when I got to have it, I miss school. My mouth is weirdly itching to spill out curse words. Is that even normal?

But, I didn't do something 'mean' on the first semester after all. It's just on Brandon. Luckily, there's no nun-like girl in school. But there were rumors that many juniors will move to St. John. Wow.

It's been years since my first prey. Her name was Dolores and I don't know what's wrong about her. She has this weird religion that she bears everyday. Like, she'll offer her food to her idols before eating it – hey, she's doing it everyday. And for a while I thought, she just wants _publicity_. And of course, what would Ivy try to do to _help_ her? 'Twas a Monday, we were all enjoying our Southern-American gourmet lunches when I hid her lunch. She was really funny because she doesn't looked like she's starving. She just freaking prayed!

It's just some practice, you know. She's not really the _real deal._ And moreover I never encountered anyone in St. John who is ready for their predator. I mean, if you'll only be kind to me, I'll be kind to you, too. It's just a matter of Karma; exchange of emotions, as they say.

Dad passed yesterday and as usual gave me the same deal. New pairs of Prada and my sunglasses. He didn't really stayed long, about 30 minutes I guess. He said he's heading for Africa, they have a shoot regarding their new show that they copied from _Animal Planet_. Honestly and for all eternity, I don't really watch their programs whenever I'm home. I don't question dad's capacity as a network manager but the show are just – redefines T.V. standards. One day I watched a cooking show, _Cook-Off _(which I suggested the name) – oh my, they make pastas using preserved sauces and preserved mushrooms; everything preserved. I usually watch CW (because of _Gossip Girl)_ and some of NBC's shows. I watch _Today Show_, which airs every morning. Oh, I love Kathie Lee Gifford and Hoda Kotb! They are very brilliant hosts and very fashionate (_fashionate_ – has a big passion for fashion). And sure, MGC doesn't have this programs. Though they are based in New York, it doesn't seem to help. And also, they're in Channel 83 – who would watch that (I thought people watch channel 42 below)? You know in my desperation to watch good shows I told this to my dad once, and guess what? He got mad at me – telling me that I'm saying lies and spreading heinous rumors about their show and that's why they have a very low rating. Imagine that! But eventually, I proved it to him by sending off my mates in our house and dad asked each of them if I told them something disturbing about the freaking damn network (which actually, I did; but I told them to just lie). And that actually led to a party, which my dad was forced into because I blamed him for bringing the kids into our house. It just makes sense!

Boredom stroke me and I can't think of anything to do. I sought the trash bin in search for my "Possible To Do List"; Maybe I could consider those I've crossed out. As I rummage around, I found it hard to find it, because they were torn into pieces. Maybe I shouldn't bother; I'll just be bored stuck in here.

When suddenly a piece of paper flew in my face. Oh my gosh, it's sneezy.

I read the paper and it said _Go visit Ruth, Kendra, Brooke, or Heather_. Let's just rephrase it into _Call Ruth, Kendra, Brooke and Heather; tell them to visit me_. Wow! That sounds nice.

I dialed Ruth first, but after pressing three numbers, I stopped. What are we going to do here anyway?

Wait, I've got an idea. Maybe we could stroll Sunset Boulevard, or visit Rodeo drive once more. Okay, let's go.

Ruth called back, said she's not available. As if there's something she's busy with – maybe busy taking care of grandma.

I have three options available, Kendra, Brooke or Heather. Wait – why would I need to choose if I could get all three?

I rang Kendra, Brooke and Heather. And obviously, they all said _yes_. For a while, I thought this should be their training, ya know? I know in the first place that Ruth will never learn but I see potentials in them. Next year, At the end of the year, Ruth and I'll be graduating and I'll leave the school. There should be left of some of my legacy; and why not, Brooke, Kendra and Heather are sophomores, they still have two years more and besides, I see great potential in them. Maybe I had a great idea, I know it's ambitious, but it's my dream to be known for my profession. Maybe that's my purpose in life. Ha-ha-ha!

Beverly Hills is sunny as always. The place to be…

"Ivy!" Kendra yelled.

"Oh, hello girls!" I waved.

They all wore good clothes. Huh! I don't think I need to teach them anything anymore. "So… where're we heading to?" Heather asked.

"You'll see…" I winked. "I'll take you somewhere you've never been."

"Ever? As in ever, ever?" Kendra was psyched.

I laughed. Then patted Kendra on the butt. "Yes, EEE, as in ever, ever, ever! Now, Y'all looked all good. But, you can't come with me if you wear a simple frock like yours, Heather. And… Brooke, you can't get any tix with that jeans. C'mon, I'll treat you all for a fashion shopping!"

"Uhh… Where's Ruth?" Asked Brooke with her silly little voice.

I spun forward to lead them. "I don't know. Maybe had another caregiving to do with her grandfather. You know Ruth, she's quite a bitch."

They all laughed.

"And besides, why have one when I can have three." I said.

"What do you mean?" Heather asked, wittily.

I laughed. "Cut it out! It just makes sense. I heard it somewhere." I answered her.

We walked the street, it's sunny and a little bit windy. It always feels good when the wind from Malibu slaps my face. It's as if I were there.

"Why are we walking? Can't we just take a bus?" Kendra complained. What a cow, Kendra is always complaining. She's a bit annoying especially she has a big mouth. She has this lower lip thicker than the other. I mean, who among normal humans have those 1-inched lower lip? I think it's doctored… But I never commented about it. Maybe someday, at the right timing. "Or… a cab, perhaps? C'mon, my shoes are wearing off!"

"Come on Kendra! It's last season's. No need to worry about this shitty things, After this, you'll thank me." I said, classy.

They smiled at me, as if I were Michelle Obama.

I looked across the street only to see Brandon. Oh, freak! Oh, crap! Crap! Crap! "Ivy, don't have panic attacks." I whispered to myself.

"Oh my goooo " Heather stopped from walking. As if she saw a dog talking like Scooby-doo.

"What the heck! Oh my goooo " Kendra mooed like a cow.

I looked at them as if I saw nothing. "What?" I raised an eyebrow on them. "Come on, girls! Waste of time!"

"Oh my gooo " Brooke mooed, too. "Ivy, your dreams have came true!"

I reached for my powder and retouched my face; added a touch of gloss too. "What do you mean… dreams?" I laughed.

Heather held my shoulders with her two hands. "Ivy, this is not any laughing matter! If you want this, then go for it! I'll give you a pen and a paper! Just wait" she searched her bag.

"Wait… what? What? I don't understand!" I looked at the sky, confused. "Don't give me panic attacks!"

Heather shouted. "Brooke, Kendra, I can't find a pen and a paper, come on find Ivy one!"

I am sweating. As I turn my head, I can see Brandon coming nearer and nearer. "Don't panic, I'm panicking, too!"

"Just shut uuuuuuuuuuup!" Kendra yelled. The girls stopped their work and Kendra's shout made me quiet. "Sit down! Don't panic! I know you waited for this moment to come all your life."

"What?" I am confused.

Brooke raised her Victoria bra. "Just leave it to us. Trust us, okay? I know you never had panic attacks since the Vogue issue with Amy Winehouse came out."

"I know, right? It's horrible!" Kendra responded. "Now, just be still."

Heather squeaked and sang like an Opera-wannabe. "I got paper! But, I don't have any pen."

"Oh, God! Thank You! Don't worry, I have my feather pen in hand." Kendra replied.

Sitting from the bench, I found myself dizzied as I looked at Brandon coming so close. Okay, I know what to do. I can handle this, this is just easy as housefire. "Ahh, Brandon?" I shouted.

Kendra, Brooke and Heather looked at me.

"What?" I questioned the girls. "I'm doing it!"

"Brandon! Bra " I noticed that he can't hear me.

Now, Heather's in the statuesque position. And that only means, I'm a fool. "What? You think he can hear you? Heidi Klum is out there. Many people are craving for her! Here, take the pen and paper. Get an autograph!"

"What the heck do you mean? That you are not talking about Brandon?"

Kendra is about to answer… "Why would we? When we know that you don't want to talk about him."

It made me more confused. "Wait go back! So, you're talking about Heidi Klum?"

"Yes?!" Heather raised an eyebrow.

"Omigod! Why didn't tell me! I am so psyched to see her!" I said as if there's no Brandon-thing involved. "But, nevermind, let's go in here."

"Where?" asked Kendra. "When she is gone?"

"Who?" I asked back. "Wait, what. the. heck! Let's go! She might throw us some free undies!"

Fuck it, Brandon. You are shit.


End file.
